A Day in the Life of a Gym Leader
by disclaimer065
Summary: I decided, as a challenge, that I'm going to start a little project entitled, "A Day in the Life of a Gym Leader." It will actually be a collection of 32, possibly 40, oneshots about each of the gym leaders. Mostly Game-verse, with some headcanon mixed in
1. Brock

I decided, as a challenge, that I'm going to start a little project entitled, as you can probably tell, "A Day in the Life of a Gym Leader." Contrary to what the name implies, it will actually be a collection of 32, possibly 40, oneshots about each of the gym leaders, beginning with Brock. So, here's Brock.

Brock slammed his glass onto the counter of Pewter City's own Musty Attic tavern. If he was even slightly in his right mind, he probably would have questioned for the tenth (or was it the twentieth?) time why bars tended to have such idiotic-if somewhat fitting, he noted with a sniff-names. As it was, though, he had about five shots of one-hundred proof whiskey in him, almost enough to bring down the hardest of men.

With watery eyes, he glanced up at the flat-screen television that was poised above the bar. It looked surprisingly expensive for a bar so... let's just say it was something of an eyesore. He strained to decipher the words and phrases spraying forth from the narrator's mouth. It sounded like some sort of documentary. He pulled his face into a grimace with the force he put towards trying to understand the words. They came to him, slowly...

"Despite the exploration team's best efforts, however, the rare, oddly colored Pokemon eluded detection. The rumored red Gyarados failed to appear, even fleetingly, to the crestfallen team..."

Nothing of interest to a Rock-type specialist. He slumped from his position, leaning against the flat surface of the bar with his hand on his cheek, to rest his head on his arm, face down. He let out a slight sob as the emotions inside of him twisted and turned. It all came back to one, specific, pink-haired girl: Nurse Joy.

He tried so hard, every day, to impress her. Whenever a challenger lost in his gym, he would personally see that they brought their Pokemon to the Pokemon Center, and would even help treat them himself. He would hang around the Center in his free time, chatting and flirting with her, and usually she seemed to return the feelings. But whenever he brought up the topic of a possible date between them, she would always shoot him down.

With another sob, he called the bartender over for another drink.

"What's gotten into you, Brock?" the barkeeper asked.

"Urgh..." he grumbled drunkenly. "S' Nurse Joy again."

"Ah, I see." The bartender leaned over by him and set down the glass he had been drying. "Y'know, Brock," he murmured, "I know you like Nurse Joy and all, but don't you think it's about time you try for a different girl? Something's bound to come your way. It just isn't a good idea to spend all this time getting down over her, y'see?"

Brock glanced up at the barkeeper, a half-joyful, half-disappointed smile on his face. "Know what I like 'bout you, Mickey?" You're always... always down... d-down 'n real. You're a real pal, brother."

Mickey smiled and went back to his duties. "What you say," he called over his shoulder.

A new girl... He could try that, Brock decided. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any really obvious (or good, for that matter) choices. There was Misty... but no, she already had a boyfriend, and she was rather monogamous. He could try Sabrina, but he rather enjoyed his masculinity, thank-you-very-much. That left Erika and Janine, but Erika was too uptight for his tastes and Arceus forbid Koga let him get within ten miles of the master ninja's daughter. What to do, then...?

Just as he was about to give up, a girl about his age approached him and hopped up onto the barstool right next to him.

"Brock? Is that you?" she asked excitedly.

""D'pends. Who's askin'?" was his gruff reply.

She blinked rapidly when their gazes met and glanced at her feet briefly. "I'm Robin. Robin Banks? I used to help you dig up rocks on route 3." She chuckled. "It's been a couple years since then, though, so I'm not surprised you don't remember."

"Robin... Robin..." his lips spread in a warm smile as he began to recall (although it was difficult with his blood alcohol level. Then again, he did begin to sober up at the memories). "Ah, yes, I remember now. You were the one who helped me find the fossil that became my Omastar!"

"Yes, that was me." She chuckled nervously. "It's been forever since I saw you, and I was in town, so I thought I'd look you up, just for old time's sake."

That didn't make sense. How did she know he was in the bar?

"Well, alright... but why would you think I was here, of all places?"

"Oh, ah, well..." she coughed briefly. "About that. I remembered you talking about how much you loved this one brand of whiskey, and then when I got here and went to the Pokemon Center, I heard Nurse Joy fuming about how you would never leave her alone, or something like that, so I just assumed you would be..."

Brock smacked his forehead. That was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. Pretty soon, the entire city would know that he had gotten rejected big-time. With his luck, they'd start laughing at him about it and no one would be able to take him seriously anymore.

"Pfft," he snorted, "Nurse Joy? Who needs her? I'm free as a mountain rock without her!" he declared, lifting his head to the ceiling and beating his chest with his fist.

She smiled weakly at his, in her eyes, undeserved pride. Still, he was a good guy, even if he was a little in over his head.

He turned back to face her. "So. If you're here for old times sake, what do you say we go to my place? We can catch up, I can show you my fossil collection, maybe we could watch a movie, or something?" he asked with a sly smile.

"Sure," she smiled, "I'd like that."

Brock gave Mickey a little wave, indicating for the barkeeper to put the cost on his tab, and led the girl to the door. Inside, he was celebrating. It looked like his streak of bad luck was about to come to an end.


	2. Misty

It was the greatest dream Misty had ever had.

The waves crashed over her as she sped through the sea. She flew through the water like a Fire Blast through a Shedinja. She was elated; she rarely got to spend much time in the water when she wasn't training her Pokémon.

It was heaven. The water had just the right amount of chill—not too cold, but enough to be refreshing. She opened her eyes briefly to spot scores of Pokémon drifting through the current beneath her. From Tentacool to Goldeen and even to Seel, a vast array of creatures smiled up at her, encouraging her to go faster. And so she did.

The Water-type trainer made quick strokes through the water, speeding through it faster than she ever had before. Ten, twenty, thirty yards she went, popping up briefly every minute or so for air. It was exhilarating to catch that first breath of salty air, air that cut the nose and cleared the senses, before plunging back down into the icy-blue depths of the ocean.

Then she was caught in a swift current that dragged her along, off course. She fought to escape it, and with a decisive kick, shot off back on track. She shot up for air once more, and heard the steady cheering of spectators. Oh how they loved to watch her swim, some even traveling from as far away as Johto to see her. She was the Mermaid of Cerulean, after all. Liked by all and loved by some, she was a water trainer like no other.

She was almost done. She could feel it. All good things must come to an end, but she wasn't sad. In fact, she was excited. Months of practice and training were a small price to pay for the ability to stun spectators and leave opponents in the dust. Or bubbles, as it were.

A roar like that of the sea rose in her ears, radiating deep within her and pounding on her eardrums as if the sea was an all-drum orchestra. It was time. She gathered energy deep within her, pushed it to her legs, snapped them together, and…

She was in the air. She flew clear out of the water, twisting and turning stylishly as the ocean breeze whipped all of the last vestiges of sea water from her pearly skin. She landed perfectly, snapping her legs apart in a split against the concrete floor. She had about five seconds of silence before cheers erupted all around her.

She was high in the air now, being carted around by a mob of fans as the referee blew his whistle to signal an end to the race. In moments, she was dumped on a stand, where she stood proudly in the icy breeze and blazing sun as a golden medallion was placed around her neck. It was heavy, but she held her head high as thousands of fans, old and young alike, screamed her name.

Suddenly, the crowd cleared in her vision as a figure stood from an exquisite chair and began marching slowly toward her. The figure was bathed in an odd shadow, odd due to the fact that it was midday and they were in the middle of the Seafoam Islands. The shadow slowly slid from the figure's body as the sun began to dramatically shine on her glistening flesh and extravagantly styled auburn hair. It was Lorelei, the Ice trainer and once member of the Kanto/Johto Elite Four.

Mist almost fainted at the sight of her idol. She sank to her knees and began to worship the master trainer. As her gaze lifted once more, she saw Lorelei's lips begin to part, as if to speak. But no sound came, instead a shrill screech sounded.

The vision rapidly faded into white as Misty was ripped violently from her dream. She sat up in bed, a few drops of sweat clinging to her face and almost nude body. The sheets slid down her body as she swung forward, wicking some of the sweat away from her chest and abdomen. She slapped her forehead groggily as she realized she had been 'swimming' in her sleep. The annoyed Cerulean Gym Leader glanced at her shrieking alarm clock to spot the time. It was 7:30 in the morning.

"Fuck."

She tossed the faulty machine across the room and slammed her head back onto her pillow, mashing a blanket onto her face. The day had barely begun and already she was ready to slap someone. It was going to be a bad one, for sure.


	3. Lt Surge

Click. Point. Pull.

Crack. Bang. Boom.

Three shots. Three bull's eyes.

A smirk flitted across his face. He still had it. Lieutenant Surge placed his pistol on the counter in front of him and removed the large, heavily padded ear muffs from his head. He set these next to the pistol on the counter.

Fifteen long years it had been since he had fired a shot in service to a cause. Nowadays he did simply out of fondness for his past and his homeland.

Sighing, the forty-three-year-old war veteran packed up his equipment, making sure the pistol was devoid of any remaining shots, and made his way to the front room of the firing range. After offering a small wave to the man at the counter, he placed a pair of sheer black shades over his eyes as he pushed open the plate-glass door and stepped out into the mid-morning chill.

The spring-time sun washed over his face as he walked ([i]All the better to have the shades[/i], he thought). It was a short distance to his truck, made all the shorter by the wide strides associated with height, and thus long legs, he took. A light breeze ruffled his medium-length hair as he walked; he was due for a cut soon.

Upon reaching the vehicle, he wasted no time piling his briefcase into the passenger's seat. He slammed the door shut out of habit and made his way around to the driver's side. As he reached for the black plastic handle, a voice approached from behind, coupled with the heavy slaps of leather boots.

"Alexander Damien Surge, born in Nimbasa City, Unova. Age forty-three, former First Lieutenant in the United States army, now retired. Lives in Vermilion City, Kanto. That sound about right?" The voice was gruff, overtly Russian, and even vaguely familiar...

His mind kicked into overdrive. Over one-hundred distinct methods of incapacitating an opponent ran through his head as his hand slowly dropped from the door handle and to the knife he kept sheathed and hidden in his pocket.

"Yeah... and who might you be?" he said as he slowly turned around to face the stranger, his grip secured around the knife.

Surge saw a man who looked to be about his age, at least from what he could see; the man had a ball cap pulled down over his face ([i]Why does everyone have a ball cap these days?[/i]). A smile spread across the stranger's face as he slowly lifted the cap from his face, revealing warm features dusted with a graying goatee and mustache.

"What? You do not recognize your old friend?"

Surge's grip loosened around the knife as the man walked up and lightly embraced him. He gave a quick squeeze in return.

"Sergeant Kravich? What are doing here in Japan?"

"It's 'Captain' Kravich, now. I just thought I would check up on you, since nobody has heard from you in quite some time."

"Oh... Well, congratulations on the promotion, and thanks for the thought, but I assure you I'm just fine." Surge turned back to his vehicle and made to enter when he felt his former army mate's hand on his shoulder.

"What? You are not happy to see your old friend?"

Surge let his grip on the door handle slacken and fall to his side. "No, no, it's not that, it's just... Hell, I don't know." He turned back around to face the former Russian and lifted his arm to gaze at his watch. "It's about time for lunch... Here, why don't we go someplace and catch up?"

"That would be good."

The two of them climbed into the truck (Surge moved his gun case to a small space between the seats to make room) and pulled out of the parking lot, and were soon heading downtown.

"So, you're the guest. What're you thinking?" Surge inquired after a few minutes of driving around aimlessly.

"Ah... Something simple, this Japanese food doesn't sit well with my stomach. A burger joint, perhaps?"

Surge glanced quizzically over at the foreigner from behind his sunglasses. "You do realize how unlikely it is that we'll find a burger joint around here, right?"

"There's bound to be one around here someplace. We'll just have to keep our eyes open."

Sure enough, within a few minutes they chanced upon a simple, American-style fast food restaurant. Just minutes later, they had acquired their food and were sitting in a booth, chowing down.

"So," said Surge between bites, "how's Cecilia?"

"Oh yes, Cecilia. She's uh... She's doing well. She is working in a law firm these days. She once said it was her life's ambition, you know? So, yes, I'm very happy for her." The Russian looked away from Surge as he said this. He seemed preoccupied, like there was something he was dying to say, but couldn't find the moment to do so.

"Hmm. Well, that's good for her." Surge took a large sip from his soda. "You know, I'm surprised you two haven't settled down someplace yet. It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

Kravich glanced back at Surge momentarily, before taking another bite form his burger. "Yes, well... I don't know. I suppose it's mostly my fault. I don't do so well with commitments. As much as I would like to get married, buy a house somewhere, and raise a family, I can't find the will to take that first step, you know?"

"Can't say I do. It must have taken quite a bit of commitment to make it to where you are in the army, didn't it?"

"This is different. You'll find yourself a woman someday, Surge, and you'll see just how differently your brain works when it concerns them. As you well know, I have faced strong men and monsters without flinching. Yet face me with a woman, and I am like a child."

Surge took a moment to think on Kravich's words, nodding as they poured into his ears. Kravich was a strong man, a proud man. It must have taken an incredible amount of courage to tell him that. Deciding to change the subject, he took a glance around the room, taking in the far-off, but still familiar, sights, sounds, and scents. Most people in the restaurant were white or black, though there was an occasional Asian cautiously testing his food.

"This place really takes me back. It'd be nice to see America again."

Kravich found his moment. "Funny you should mention that, actually."

"Why's that?"

"I've been thinking... You know as well as I do of the unrest in other parts of the world. It is smelling like there will be war soon. And that made me think... I would like to fight by your side again, Surge."

This hit Surge like a cattle prod. He had never considered going back to the army. "Geez, I-I don't know. I have so much of a life here, I don't think I could ever just give it up so easily."

Kravich's face fell, but he retained his confident demeanor. "I understand," he said, removing a pen and paper from his pocket. He quickly scribbled down a number and handed it to Surge. "It would be rude of me to expect an immediate answer. Here's my cell number. Why don't you think on it for a while, then tell me what you think?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. I mean... Yeah."

They quickly finished their meal and went outside to the truck. Kravich told Surge that he could just take a cab, but Surge insisted on ferrying him back to his hotel. When they arrived, a brief goodbye was made, and Surge headed back to his house above the gym.

For the rest of the day, Surge went about his routine normally, only occasionally giving the matter any thought.

When twilight drew near, Surge found himself in the shower. Any other part of the day, he would be working out, dealing with gym business, or dealing with some other trivial matter that required all of his attention. It wasn't until the day was almost over that he ever had time to think. And now, he had a decision to make...

He could hardly deny one of his closest friends such a simple (relatively, at least) request, even if they had not spoken in years. The very fact that Kravich had come in person spoke wonders for the devotion the Russian held to his former CO. He still had family back in the States, as well, that he would love to visit, if only briefly.

But he couldn't well just up and leave everything he had here behind. The League would be without Gym Leader for quite a while, potentially placing a plethora of challenges on hold. And the other Leaders would be without a friend...

He finished rather quickly and toweled himself off. It was too big of a decision to make in one night.

After he finished drying and dressing, he sat in a reclining chair in his living room, reading a magazine just to let his mind wander from the monolithic choice that faced him.

As he read, he heard a squeaky, if deep and rough, call sound throughout the house. In moments, he felt a great weight on his legs: Raichu had done its best to curl up in his lap. He lightly stroked the rodent's fur, reliving the times they had spent together in the army. Raichu had been such a tough and energetic companion then, but now... the rat found it difficult to last an entire battle. The Electric-type was getting old.

Surge would never be able to go back to the army without Raichu, that he was sure of. He lifted the rat from his lap and stood, placing the Pokemon back on the chair. He silently made his way to the phone and dialed the number from the paper he had received earlier. In moments, the recipient picked up.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"It's me, Surge." he said lightly.

"Ah, excellent. I didn't expect for you to get back to me so soon! What have you decided?"

"I can't do it, Kravich. I'm sorry."

There was silence on the other end for several moments. A sigh came through the line. "Well, I suppose that's that, then. It would have been wonderful to have you serve under me, but I suppose I cannot force your hand. ...What made you decide to stay?"

"It was Raichu. He's getting on in years. It just wouldn't be the same without him."

"I understand. Well, you have my number now. Be sure to keep in touch, won't you?"

"Yeah... plus... it would be much better for my sanity to stay here. I think going back to the States after all this time would just be too much of a culture shock."


	4. Erika

"Erika! The mail's here!" The Celadon Gym Leader lifted her eyes from the book she was reading and glanced over at the French doors that led to her den and library as a cheerful girl in a black dress bounded in, her brown curls leaping around her face joyfully. The girl raced over to Erika, proudly displaying several letters and a package in her arms. Erika forced a smile as the young girl dumped the contents of that day's mail into Erika's lap.

Erika set her book and cup of tea on the side-table and began sorting through the letters. It was pretty standard stuff; water, heat, and electricity bills, a reminder about the party being held at Lance's mansion for his birthday, a couple of requests for donations to charity. The package, however, was much more unique. The Grass princess furrowed her brow as she read the return address, or more specifically, the names on it: Brier and Holly (the last name had been smudged, somehow)-her parents.

She briefly glanced over the rest of the package. The shipping label in particular caught her eye: it had been shipped by some company she had never even heard of (Orion Packaging: "OP – We Deliver"). That was just like her parents, though, to use some small-time company like that. Knowing them, they probably went to high school with the owner or something.

Deciding to open it later, Erika set the mail on the side-table and yawned, placing a hand over her lips to stifle it. When her eyes slip open again, she noticed the young woman still standing dutifully by her chair, bright pink lips stretched in a perpetual smile.

"Michelle?"

"Yes, Erika?"

"Is there... something you want?"

[i]Oh, there's something I want, alright...[/i] "N-no, not really."

Erika stood carefully and indicated a chair on the other side of the small room from her own. "Please, sit." Michelle quickly took a seat as Erika gracefully glided over to a counter where a pot of tea sat on a burner. Her kimono flapped briefly around her ankles as she walked. "Tea?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, please!" Michelle exclaimed. A few moments later, Erika handed the young trainer a steaming cup of tea and returned to her seat with a fresh cup of her own.

"Michelle," Erika said as she sat, "Why do you insist on retrieving the mail everyday?"

Michelle took a sip of tea before answering. "I just, uh, think you could use some time for yourself, you know? After all, you do the most with the gym, the rest of the trainers and I just sit around all day."

"I see." Erika took a long sip of her tea. She highly doubted what the girl said was true. Challengers rarely came to her gym anymore, so that left her with plenty of free time. It was more likely that the rest of the Gym trainers were hazing the girl to initiate her as a full member of the Gym.

In the absence of conversation, the newest member of the Celadon Gym gazed around the room, staring at the plants. She seemed uncomfortable with them, as she grimaced lightly after staring at them for a few seconds. Every so often, her gaze would return to Erika, though her eyes would immediately dart away again. After a while, she began drumming the fingers of her free hand on the chair's arm.

"Why are you here, Michelle?"

Michelle's gaze snapped to Erika. She looked bewildered. "I, uh, I like plants?" She didn't even seem sure herself.

"Really. Tell me, how much do you know about plants?"

Michelle was nervous. Erika wasn't speaking maliciously, in fact, she thought it impossible for that soft, kind voice to ever speak ill of anything. No, it was just that no one usually bothered to ask her about herself, even if it was something as simple as that.

"Lots. There's the roots, and the stem, and the leaves. Flowers have pollen... lots."

"Lying doesn't suit you well, Michelle," Erika said politely, sipping her tea.

Michelle's face fell and she began twiddling her thumbs. "Yeah, I know..."

"Why are you really here?"

"I guess... I guess I like the peace here. Everyone gets along, no one judges you..."

Erika cocked her head. "Nobody judges you? What reason would they have to do so?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Hmm." Another sip of tea. "Where are you from, Michelle?"

"Viridian City."

"Why come to Celadon, if you wanted peace? Celadon is much bigger than Viridian."

"Yeah, I know, and there's the forest, too. The problem is that I can't be there all day. I'd have to come home eventually."

"So your family judged you."

"Y-yeah." Michelle looked away. She stared hard at a painting of a fruit basket, unwilling to look back at Erika.

"I understand how you feel."

"Do you?"

"Well..." the Grass trainer mused, "I suppose not in the same context. But I understand how it feels to want to be away from your family."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Michelle continued to gaze at the painting while Erika watched her carefully. Eventually, Michelle turned back to face her idol, who smiled at her pleasantly. Michelle bit her lip.

"Why are [i]you[/i] here?"

"Why am [i]I[/i] here?"

"Yes."

"I suppose... why don't I show you?" Erika picked up the package from the side-table and held it out in front of her. "This is from my parents. Open it." Michelle stood quickly, grabbed the package, and sat back down. She made short work of the tape and in no time had cleared away the balled-up newspapers that encased the object inside. "What is it?" Erika inquired.

"It's... a Pokemon doll."

"What kind of Pokemon doll?"

"...A Clefairy."

Erika sighed and set her tea down. She yawned briefly, then leaned to the right and rested her head on her hand. "I expected something like that. Mother enjoys her irony."

"I... don't get it."

"My parents are a tad eccentric. Their idea of a fun time is going to the top of the Goldenrod department store at midnight and howling like wolves. They dragged me along several times as well."

Michelle's imagination taunted her with Erika howling, though in quite another way. She squirmed in her seat. "You didn't like it?"

"No. I didn't. Although, the problem was more that they insisted on including me in their, ah, hi-jinks. I have no qualms with them having fun in their own little way. But that just wasn't who I was. Yet everything had to be just how wanted it, no matter how silly it was. They always made me dress in clothes that didn't match well, they put my hair into such silly styles, they read me the oddest stories."

Michelle nodded, cheered up that she wasn't the only one who had problems with her family. Her appearance reflected this change: she began smiling again, her eyes lit up. "So, the reason you're so quiet and... well, [i]proper[/i] is just you rebelling against your parents?"

"Rebelling? Goodness, no! I love them very much, and I really don't want to upset them. I'm just embracing who I am inside." She took a final sip of her tea, draining the rest. "You should do that too," she added.

Michelle nodded, smiling, and finished off her tea. She glanced at the clock and decided it was time she left. Erika and she both stood. Erika took their teacups and placed them by the pot. Afterward, Erika guided her to the door.

"Thank you so much for the tea and talk, Erika," Michelle thanked her, lingering outside of the door.

"It was no trouble, I assure you. I enjoyed myself. You can come back whenever you want."

"Erika... I think I-"

"Michelle, you are a good friend, and I appreciate you opening up to me. But I am not the one you need to be yourself to. You cannot teach a sage something he already knows." Erika placed her hand on Michelle's shoulder reassuringly.

Michelle's face fell and her lips sagged into a silent 'o'. Finally, she spoke: "You... already know."

"I guessed."

"Oh, okay." Michelle turned to leave, hanging her head. She hadn't gone more than two steps when she felt a pair of arms around her. Erika was hugging her.

"Michelle, how old are you?"

"S-sixteen. Almost seventeen."

"I'm twenty-one."

"Ooooohhhhh..." Michelle exclaimed as she realized what Erika was saying. Erika turned her around, grabbed one of her hands, and placed something in it.

"You have plenty of time left before you need to settle on anything. You're still a teenager. Go and have fun. Make some bad decisions. Not TOO bad... But you understand what I'm saying. [i]Live[/i]."

Michelle nodded, clasped her fist shut, and ran downstairs, through the gym, and outside into the city. She ran and ran and ran, until she came to a stoplight. She paused, catching her breath, and opened her hand. Her heart soared. It was a Rainbow Badge.


	5. Sabrina

SABRINA

Saffron City. City of majesty. City of valor. City of innovation.

"City of assholes…" the young psychic muttered under her breath. She was atop the Silph Company building in Saffron, observing the city—[i]_her_[/i] city—as twilight wrapped the buildings and streets in its delicate arms. As much as she adored the city and held it as her own, she couldn't hide the truth from herself: the city was debased. Corrupted beyond recognition of the shining metropolis it once was. Every day, the newspaper headlines radiated with stories of murders, drug busts, kidnappings. Typical of any big city, but this was [i]her[/i] city, her baby, her love. The city she loved, that once brought forth endless technology, culture, and art, was now a heaping mess of shady men, backstabbing women, and delinquent children.

She sighed. The city no longer held any love for her, either. The people that would once gaze upon her with awe, that would shower her with praise and adoration, now would not even grace her with a wayward glance. She was just a small quirk to the city now, something to brag about to one's friends but not truly hold dear to one's heart; she was a tourist attraction.

And oh how those tourists loved her, loved her as much as any spectacle they might chance upon in their travels. But soon, they would forget about little old Sabrina. She would lie dormant in their minds, not even as a seed to flourish and bring wonder back to family and friends. No, she would be the stuff of minute party conversations, something of an icebreaker so that they could eventually move on to matters no doubt far more important.

Not that she cared about the finite musings and doings of simple travelers, visitors to her city. No, it was not their crude thoughts and greedy desires that brought her down. It was the cold gazes from the eyes of her own brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors, that sliced into her soul and left her gasping for breath.

She knew, in her own mind, that that was selfish. In truth, she would settle for them to correct their paths and stop diluting the wonder of their home with their grimy dealings. She would gladly be forgotten, if only they would remember the city.

A shimmer in the fabric of the world brought her out of her thoughts and back to the present. She knew who it would be before the words had even left his lips.

"Ah, Sabrina, how wonderful to see you here!" The one who still loved her. The one who still wanted her. The one who she would not herself give a wayward glance.

"I believe you are trespassing, Butler."

He moved up to the railing and leaned against it, mirroring her position. He was gaudy in his dress. Even just through her peripheral vision, the bright white fabric of his suit cut through her eyes in the near-night darkness. And that [i]hair[/i]. Her lip curled in disgust; she had never understood, nor been one for, flashy hairstyles. The one she had now was the most radical she had ever had, and it wasn't even very far-out at that. It flowed back behind her head and swooped up slightly. In contrast, his spiraled straight back from his head. Not to mention that it was purple, and artificially.

"Oh? Then aren't you as well?"

"No," she said, "Silph is one of the few remaining institutions that actually value my presence in the city." In the silence between their words, she could hear the faint breathing of an Alakazam well behind her; Butler's preferred mode of transportation, or teleportation, as it were.

Butler turned so that he was facing the opposite direction as Sabrina, his elbows resting on the railing. "And there you go with the "woe is me, give me back my city" business again. I don't see why you insist on-"

"I refuse to degrade myself by joining your little circus, Butler, so you may as well leave now."

"But why?" he asked. "Why do you continue to live in this rat-infested hellhole? Life with me and my companions might not be, ah, [i]glamorous[/i], but it is a far sight better than-this!" He gestured at the softly glowing buildings with a wide sweep of his arm. He was grinning, a grin that spoke of undeserved pride, confidence, and outright cockiness. He thought he was the world, and the world let him believe so.

Sabrina could attest to that. Whenever Butler was near, you were sure to hear of it. Gossip, news, whatever. It permeated the common conversations and dominated the newspapers. She wasn't entirely sure why, though. She supposed that the simplest—and, quite frankly, most disheartening—explanation was that people were simply willing to pay to see a cheap bit of entertainment. Butler was a so-called "magician," "wonder-man," and "miracle-worker," but like most skills of the day, it was all about deception and sleight-of-hand. No one cared to see true paranormal ability, because it couldn't turn an elephant into a pocket watch.

"I'm not coming with you. I can't leave my city. Not like this."

"Well then, I suppose I'll just have to persuade you otherwi—" She left the railing and headed for the elevator, flipping the magician over the railing with a mental push. His Alakazam leapt immediately after him, so he wasn't in any real danger. She didn't have the patience to deal with him anymore. There was no doubt in her mind that he would not cease in his efforts to recruit her into his posse of clowns, dancers, and fortunetellers.

He loved her. He wanted her. But for his own selfish purposes.

Perhaps the city wasn't the problem after all. Maybe it was just her.


End file.
